


Almost, But Not Quite, a Vacation

by paroxferox



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Not-quite declarations of love, Protective Natasha Romanov, Skiing, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, brief mentions of Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 18:40:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2822252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paroxferox/pseuds/paroxferox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a shame Natalie Rushman never existed. It's also a shame that Pepper and Natasha only get the chance to spend time together on covert missions when Pepper's life is on the line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almost, But Not Quite, a Vacation

**Author's Note:**

> A Marvel Rarepair Exchange fic, for sodiumwater on tumblr!

* * *

Natalie Rushman was by far the best employee Pepper ever had.

It understandably infuriates her that Natalie Rushman never existed in the first place.

“You know, if you ever want to come back, I could use the help,” she says idly to Natasha as they cuddle on the couch during a movie one evening. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I have _plenty_ of qualified help now that I’m not required to hire personal assistants on the basis of physical attractiveness, but...well, none of them are you.”

“Natalie Rushman isn’t me, either,” Natasha answers with the tiniest of smiles, tilting her head up to kiss Pepper on the jaw.

“Not the persona, maybe, but the _quality of work_ , that’s all you. We could use more of that at Stark.” Pepper runs her fingers through Natasha’s hair, enjoys the way Natasha sighs and relaxes against her, and then presses the matter because she’s determined to finish her train of thought. “You’re technically still an employee, you know. Just on...I don’t remember. Some kind of unpaid leave. We never took you out of the HR pool, though. Phil recommended we keep the option open, just in case.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Pepper,” Natasha says, but her smile makes it obvious that she doesn’t really mean it, and Pepper resigns herself to the fact that she’s never going to have a personal assistant as capable as Natasha was ever again. Which is probably for the best, honestly - Natasha’s professionalism is born of a whole different kind of necessity. The kind of obsessive attention to detail that a spy needs to keep from blowing her cover isn’t exactly the mindset anyone wants in a PA, no matter how badly Pepper wants to have reports coming in _on time_ again.

“Just let me know,” she mumbles, and Natasha laughs.

“I will,” she says, before tugging Pepper down into a kiss and ending the conversation with something Pepper likes a whole lot better than talking.

 

* * *

 

Pepper’s still completely convinced that Natasha was only humoring her two weeks later, when the door opens and a familiar head of red hair bustles into her office just as she’s preparing to go to lunch. There’s only one person in Pepper’s world with hair and a figure like that. “Good afternoon, Miss Potts,” she says in a voice that’s too high, too earnest, and too _chipper_ for Natasha’s day-to-day. Pepper is _instantly_ on the alert.

“Hello,” she says guardedly, tensing as Natasha approaches and aware that she’s frowning more and more the closer Natasha gets. “I...wasn’t expecting to see you here today,” she ventures.

Natasha flashes a tiny, opaque smile and shrugs. “I’m sorry, Miss Potts,” she says lightly. “I was asked to bring you these reports.” She _is_ holding a folder, although when she comes close enough to set it down on Pepper’s desk, it quickly becomes apparent that it’s full of nothing but empty pages. Before she can ask Natasha what the deal is, Natasha leans in until her lips are nearly brushing Pepper’s ear. “ _Your life is in danger_ ,” she says in a brusque whisper, “ _and I’m going to need you to come with me as quickly as you can_.”

Pepper’s blood runs cold, and her stomach clenches with dread. “Natasha -” she starts, but Natasha shakes her head roughly. They make eye-contact for a fraction of a second, and Natasha raises her eyebrows in a brief, significant look - an obvious entreaty to play along. Then it’s gone, hidden away behind a warm smile that crinkles her eyes up at the corners, genuine as can be even though Pepper _knows_ it’s not.

“It’s Natalie, Miss Potts,” she says. Pepper tries to force her suddenly-dizzy mind into a coherent train of thought, but the urgency in the lines of Natasha’s body suggests that taking any time to think is a bad idea at present. There’s nothing to do but play along, and so for the moment, she does.

“Natalie,” she says, suddenly breathless. “Of course. Where are we going?”

“You have an appointment, did you forget about it?”

 _Just go with it_. “I must have.”

Natasha - _Natalie_ \- smiles and tosses her hair. “Then it’s a good thing they sent me up here to check on you. I have all your reports ready and the car is waiting for you outside. I’d suggest you take your briefcase; you told me yesterday that the meeting might run long.”

The coded message doesn’t transmit _clearly_ to Pepper, but the general gist of it does, and as she gathers up the most important of her work and packs it away, she keeps her peripheral attention on ‘Natalie.’ Somehow, it just seems _obvious_ that the next time she’d have Natasha in her office, it’d be as covert agent again. _Nothing’s ever easy_ , she thinks to herself as she puts on her coat. _Nobody ever comes to see me at work because they want to be close. Not even my girlfriend._ She allows herself a single aggrieved sigh before straightening up and turning back to Natasha.

Natasha lifts her chin in acknowledgment. “Ready, Miss Potts?” she asks, still all smiles.

“Of course,” Pepper says, tugging the lapels of her coat flat and settling the strap of her shoulder bag. Natasha nods once, then turns briskly on her heel and heads straight for the elevator. Pepper follows, taking the time to close and lock her office, and slips into the elevator alongside Natasha just as the door closes.

They stand in uncomfortable silence for the first dozen floors, Natasha scrutinizing every seam and ceiling panel of the elevator, before she nods in apparent satisfaction and leans up even higher than her heels currently bring her to whisper directly into Pepper’s ear again.

“ _I’ll explain everything when we’re out of here_ ,” she hisses. It’s the only thing she says for the rest of the elevator ride, and Pepper is too confused and hopped-up on adrenaline to try and work anything else out. She allows Natasha to shepherd her out of the building and into one of the Stark Industries cars, which is driven not by Happy or one of the men she recognizes, but someone Natasha seems familiar with. “You know where we’re going,” she says. It’s the only thing she says for the duration of the ride.

They change cars at a garage in Brooklyn, switching out the corporate car for a forest-green sedan that Natasha actually wrinkles her nose at. “Only because I have to,” she growls before sliding into the driver’s seat. Pepper goes along with her because she has no other choice.

The car might not be luxurious, but it _is_ innocuous, and Natasha’s muttering about _horsepower_ and _my toaster handles better than this_ peters out once they hit White Plains without a second glance. The tension clears from the air as she takes an exit onto a country highway. Whatever danger was in the Tower doesn’t seem to have followed them out.

“Is _now_ the point in this adventure where you explain to me what’s going on?” Pepper asks, once she feels like she can breathe again.

Natasha snorts amusement, and her voice when she speaks is level and easy. “Had reports of some guerrilla AIM employees infiltrating the company with the intent of stealing Starktech and very likely causing harm to you and Tony, if they can manage. It isn’t safe for you to be in Stark right now, so we’re getting you out. It shouldn’t take more than a few days for SHIELD’s folks to weed out the offenders. Maybe the weekend, if things get _really_ exciting. You’re taking the rest of the week off, courtesy of SHIELD.”

“So you’re kidnapping me.” It’s melodramatic, Pepper knows, but she’s the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar international corporation; she can afford a little melodrama now and again.

“Not at all. We’re just getting you out of a potentially dangerous situation for a few days,” Natasha says. “Nothing horrible, but staying in New York is a bad idea for you - and before you ask,” she continues when Pepper opens her mouth to protest, “we’ve already figured out how to cover everything, and Tony has okayed it. He knows where we’re taking you. He’s not going to show up on the doorstep and blow your cover.”

“My cover -” Pepper sputters, and Natasha grins.

“Yes. Your cover. It’s a fun one. Probably the most fun _I’ve_ had in a while. There’s a suitcase in the backseat, it should have just about everything we need. We’re going to Vermont. I hope you don’t mind the cold.”

 

* * *

 

“So just to go over it one last time,” Pepper murmurs as they step out of the car and Natasha hands the keys off to a valet, “I’m Angela Brown and you’re my fiancee, Jessica Harris. We’re celebrating our three-year anniversary at a ski resort because we’re fun, exciting, and outdoorsy.” She fusses with the ends of the fashionably-bobbed brunette wig she’s currently wearing and tries to look inconspicuous.

“Exactly.” Natasha, looking _stunning_ in a platinum blonde wig of her own, smiles. “And we are _very much_ in love,” she adds, standing on tiptoe to press a kiss to Pepper’s cheek. “You don’t have to be fun, exciting, or outdoorsy if you don’t want. You can stay in the lodge while I ski.”

“I don’t think I can guarantee my wig will stay on if I go out in the snow,” Pepper admits, turning her head to kiss Natasha properly. “So maybe staying inside where the coffee’s hot and there _isn’t_ fifteen inches of fresh powder is a better idea.”

It’s _nice_ , to be able to be open about her relationship with Natasha for once. It’s been one of the terms of the entire situation since it started: as far as the public eye is concerned, Pepper and Tony are together and exclusively monogamous, the way OK! Magazine prefers its celebrities. The last thing she and Tony need is a _verifiable_ cheating scandal making its rounds in the media - even if it’s not cheating, and it’s not a scandal.

But right now she’s not Virginia Potts, she’s Angela Brown, and her girlfriend isn’t Natasha Romanoff, she’s Jessica Harris. There’s no potential media disaster, no stigma for the pair of them, and she slips an arm around Natasha’s waist as they walk. Natasha rests her head on Pepper’s shoulder, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world. “We should do this more often,” she sighs, and Natasha hums agreement.

“We should. Once we’ve cleaned up the mess and you can take an _actual_ vacation where I’m just your girlfriend, not your bodyguard.”

“Is that what normal people do? Take vacations where nobody is on-guard for rogue AIM agents or paparazzi and all parties involved are gainfully employed in ways they can actually _tell_ their partners about?”

“Keep your voice down. And I’m not sure. It seems nice, though.”

“It does. I’d like to try it some time.”

 

* * *

 

They check in on Wednesday, and Natasha leaves at very nearly the crack of dawn on Thursday to go skiing. Pepper doesn’t accompany her; it’s been long enough since she’s skied that she’s not sure she’d be able to manage without making a fool of herself, and when she already has to worry about managing her wig if she even leaves the room, it’s just not a good idea to risk the exposure. Instead, she sleeps in far later than she would have if she were at home, does yoga in front of the window, and treats herself first to an unreasonably-long shower, and after that to a room-service breakfast that has no right to be as delicious as it is.

The room itself has a coffee pot, so morning routine taken care of, she puts the coffee on to brew and settles down to read until Nat comes back in from the slopes. First, she finishes the work reports she needed to do, because “emergency leave” does not in her mind translate to “slack off entirely.”

After that, she only has her phone; had she been given more notice, she’d be better-prepared. She finds herself wishing Nat could have thought to pack something, but she supposes that expecting her to get the essentials _and_ pleasure-reading material is entirely unreasonable. And anyway, she has at least a few dozen ebooks squirreled away on the phone for free moments that never come. Once the coffee has brewed, she pulls an armchair in front of the window and settles down to read looking out over a _spectacular_ view of snowy mountains.

The first book she chooses is a biography that she wouldn’t have sought out by herself but that Bruce Banner recommended to her, and she mostly trusts his judgment on this sort of thing. It’s the first time in _months_ she’s had a chance to sit down and actually read for pleasure, and it doesn’t matter that she’s squinting at a tiny screen for hours. Her coffee goes cold, abandoned within reach of her right hand as she completely loses herself in the bliss of doing something _only_ for herself. She’s so wholly engrossed in her reading that when the door clicks open, she jumps about a foot out of her seat.

“You’re lucky I wasn’t an assassin,” Natasha says mildly, and Pepper’s laugh in response is forced and a little awkward. The joke doesn’t exactly ring as _funny_ when the entire reason they’re on vacation in the first place is that someone in New York was very likely trying to kill her.

“I...assumed you were keeping an eye on everything,” she admits.

“I was. You’re completely safe with me here. I’m sorry, I was trying to be funny. I’m not always very good at it.”

Pepper sighs, relieved, and allows herself to relax. She stands up and crosses the room to the foyer, where Natasha is already stripping off her outside clothes. “Did you have fun?”  she asks, taking Natasha’s coat and hanging it up on the back of the door.

Natasha turns and _grins_ at her. “It was nice to be doing that without any ulterior motives,” she says. “Just a chance to ski for _fun_. I’ve missed doing that.” She’s rosy-cheeked from the cold and her hair is damp - likely from a combination of snow and sweat, if Pepper is remembering her own childhood ski vacations correctly - but she’s _stunningly_ gorgeous when she’s this happy.

Pepper sucks in a little gasp. “SHIELD not big on giving you time off, huh?” She transfers Natasha’s sopping-wet gloves and hat into the sink before turning back to watch Natasha struggle out of her boots.

“Not really, no. I’ve probably got some time off saved up, but...you don’t really take _weekends_ in my line of work. I take what I can get. This is the first vacation I’ve had in probably five years.” Natasha tosses her socks in the sink on top of the gloves and hat, then stands up and strips off her pants. “ _God_ , it feels good to get out of all these layers, though. Where are my pajamas?”

“On the bed,” Pepper murmurs, making no secret of watching as Natasha moves past her. Natasha glances over her shoulder and smiles wickedly.

“Should I leave them off?”

“Hmmm. I appreciate the thought, Natasha, but how about you focus on warming up and I come cuddle with you, instead?”

“Mm. Good.” Natasha sprawls out onto the bed to pull on her flannel pajama pants, and when Pepper has settled down beside her, she pulls the covers over both of them. “This is nice,” she murmurs, curling up against Pepper’s chest. “You’re warm.”

“Not really. You’re just still cold from outside,” Pepper answers, turning the cuddle into a gentle massage. She works her fingers into Natasha’s shoulders, and Natasha makes a tiny, happy sound and relaxes, slumping onto the bed. “Usually I’m the cold one.”

Natasha doesn’t reply, and Pepper continues the massage. After a few minutes, Natasha’s completely asleep. Pepper smiles and tugs the covers up closer, settling down and wrapping an arm around Natasha’s waist. They sleep through the night tangled in each other’s arms, and repeat the pattern on Friday.

 

* * *

 

On Saturday morning, Natasha wakes Pepper up by lying across her and kissing her face, her neck, her shoulder - anything she can reach. “Good morning,” she says when Pepper makes an incoherent noise of protest and tries to pull a pillow over her head. “Got the all-clear from HQ just now. We can go back to civilization if you want.”

“Can we go back to _sleep_ if I want?” Pepper grumbles, and Natasha laughs.

“So you want to spend the rest of the weekend here anyway? Not tired of the snow yet?”

“I was tired of the snow from day one,” Pepper admits. “But...I like being here and warm with you.”

“Good,” Natasha says, snuggling closer to Pepper and tucking her head under Pepper’s chin. “We can stay here until tomorrow, then. There’s a ridiculously fancy restaurant downtown, and I was thinking we could do that tonight, to celebrate making it through your first major crisis that centers on _you_ instead of Tony.”

“That sounds lovely,” Pepper mumbles, but she’s already drifting back to sleep, lulled by Natasha’s warmth against her skin and the feeling of _relief_ that comes of knowing she’s safe. She’s always safe with Natasha. “Thank you, Natasha.”

“Anything for you, Pepper.” Natasha sounds curiously serious when she says it. “Anything for you.”

 

* * *

 

If Pepper thought her paperwork was a mess _before_ the incident with AIM, it’s _nothing_ compared to what she has to wrestle with once the offending parties are removed. A single glance at the stacks of forms waiting on her desk when she walks in on Monday makes her want to scream, and though she cracks down and shovels the most important of the forms off her desk before lunch, the rest of the day is _consumed_ with patent lawyers and chats with the police and (somewhat terrifyingly) a call from Nick Fury himself.

By the end of the day, she wants to pull her hair out and fire the entire company, so it’s a welcome relief when Natasha slips into her office, a latte (venti cinnamon latte with soy milk, no whip - just the way Pepper likes it, bless Natasha’s heart) in one hand and a warm coat in the other. “We’re going to dinner,” she says in response to Pepper’s obvious confusion. “You’ve earned it.”

The restaurant where she takes Pepper isn’t one of the fussy four-star restaurants Pepper prefers or the loud, raucous bars the Avengers boys tend to take over after a mission. It’s a _tiny_ \- barely more than a hole-in-the-wall - Italian place that Pepper wouldn’t have given a second glance had she passed it on the streets. Natasha orders for both of them, speaking to the server in rapidfire Italian, and Pepper allows herself to relax and enjoy the meal. They make small talk, nothing particularly relevant, and enjoy their meals at a leisurely pace, and halfway through the best tiramisu Pepper has _ever_ had, Natasha reaches under the table and takes her hand.

It’s the first time she’s publicly displayed affection when it wasn’t a cover, and Pepper is suddenly aware of an ache in her chest that she hadn’t noticed before.

They walk back in silence after dinner, arms linked but otherwise not quite touching, and Pepper feels _relaxed_ in the city for the first time in decades. Natasha seems to feel it, too, because she leans a little bit against Pepper. “This weekend was good, I think,” she says. “The circumstances leading up to it weren’t, but the weekend in general...I had a lot of fun.”

“So did I.” Pepper nods, glancing down at Natasha and resisting the sudden, strong urge to kiss the top of her head. “I’m pretty sure I could do anything with you and it’d be a lot of fun.”

“I appreciate that, Pepper.” Natasha smiles up at her, and Pepper glances away and chews her lip to distract herself from the temptation.

They lapse into silence for another two blocks. It starts to snow fat snowflakes, the kind that make even the grimier parts of the city look beautiful. Pepper pushes aside the pessimism that tells her it will all be slush by morning and permits herself a moment of childish delight at a beautiful scene. The streets aren’t empty, but they’re mercifully clear of anyone who seems to care about either of them, even as they draw closer to the Tower.

When they stop at a corner to wait for the light, Pepper looks down at Nat again. The blue-white illumination catches the snow in her hair, and as she tilts her head up and smiles, Pepper’s chest aches again. “Natasha,” she says softly, and Nat looks up.

“Yeah?”

She takes a deep breath, steels herself, and kisses Natasha. It’s the first time she’s kissed her in public, and the momentary concern of being _recognized_ and _observed_ and _photographed_ evaporates as Natasha throws her arms around her neck and kisses her firmly back.

They stand like that for a moment, arms around each other in the thickening snow, and when they break apart, both of them breathless, the relief of not _hiding_ rushes to Pepper’s head. She wants to do something, say _I love you_ , but the words won’t come. “You mean a lot to me,” she says instead, and Natasha smiles at her, warm and knowing.

“You mean a lot to me, too, Pepper.”

The light turns green.


End file.
